Six Feet Under
by KhaoticKris
Summary: Erol get's his second chance, but it comes with a price. The Eco he crashed into has reanimated him, but Praxis won't let him go so easy. The Undergound might be his only hope, but he's going to have to win their trust first.


**A/N: Co-written with KrystaelTheDestroyer on tumblr.**

**Chapter warnings: Slight gore, swearing**

* * *

The first thing to come back was his hearing. There was the thud of footsteps against an unforgiving metal floor. The grind of machinery, and distant voices. It was a familiar sound. Sight came next, everything slowly taking shape out of the darkness. It was just blurry shapes at first, fuzzy edges in the black an white of his vision. Color started to seep in as the strange black and grey world, and he recognized it as the jail. But that didn't make any sense. His last memory was of the first class race...

Erol jerked upright, the last thing he remembered was crashing into barrels full of eco, aiming to take out the damn eco freak in the process of self destruction. His chest rattled uncomfortably as he drew in a startled breath. No no, this wasn't right. He looked around, realizing that he was not simply in the jail, he was in a cell. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was still something off with his senses, a strange lighting to his vision perhaps, or the weird metallic taste of the air. He moved more deliberately now, more than just a startled jerk, and again something felt wrong, as if his body was stuffed with cotton and stitched together, stiff and awkward. He must have been bandaged from the crash, he'd somehow lived through it. He looked down at his hands to examine the damage.

Shock. Disbelief. Horror. He didn't think he had a strong enough word for the nauseating emotions that crashed into him like a tidal wave. Thick black stitches ran across one hand, half his skin having taken on a strange greyish tinge like the skin of a corpse. His hands were trembling, but he couldn't take his eyes off them. His left hand was a mess of muscle and bone, half his skin burnt away to reveal the structure underneath. He twitched his fingers and they moved, and the disgusted, horrified shout that wanted to escape him came out as a strangled croak.

He registered somewhere in the back of his head that he should be feeling pain, but there was a total absence of any sort of agony. He scrambled back against the wall, pressing himself to the cold metal as it to somehow distance himself from his own body. His eyes were wide, darting almost frantically and his breaths were coming hard and jagged. His chest was beginning to ache, and his hands jerked and shook as he near tore his shirt off, a need to know what was causing the discomfort gnawing at his already strained mind. If his hands were in such a sorry state. He looked down at his bare chest once the fabric was gone (it wasn't his shirt, it was a standard issue prisoners uniform, but his mind had set that aside to process later). The sound that left him this time was a low, agonized wail.

More of those thick stitches seemed to be holding his skin together, patches of it discolored and almost comically patchwork. What was worse, far worse was where there was no skin sewn back on. He could see the muscles stretched over his ribs – _oh by the Precursors he could see his ribs. _His head snapped back, eyes fixing up at the ceiling as he drew sharp, short breaths, near hysterical. His hands balled into fists and tremors shook his whole body. No no no, this was all wrong. He had to be dreaming, the whole thing was a dream. The thought gave gave him the courage to look back down, bringing his less damaged hand to gingerly prod at the seemingly gaping wound. He was bent over the side of the bed gagging a moment later. He could feel his own muscles, and worse, he'd felt the press of his fingers against the bare flesh, a weird pressure, nothing like the touch of them against his skin. His eyes watered and he wiped at them, his hands coming away from his face wet with a thick, black liquid.

His panic rose, knotting in his chest and tightening his throat as his trembling hands went to touch his face, feeling the thick stitches running across his face from jaw, diagonally across his face to his hairline. His skin was cold he realized now, and he could feel thick metal stapes holding one of his ears to his head along side the stitches. He only vaguely registered that that thick dark liquid was slipping down his cheeks again, though his hands automatically went to wipe it away. He looked at it again, realizing now that it wasn't black as he'd first though, but a dark brownish red color, like old blood.

The metallic taste in his mouth. It wasn't a trick of his senses. His horror mounted, it was blood he was tasting, his own from these strange wounds. He swore his heart was going to stop. Something dawned on him then. Through his shock and revulsion, his heart should have been beating a mile a minute. But he couldn't feel the tell tale thunder of it in his chest at all. Shaking, almost afraid to check, his hand went to his neck and he pressed his fingers against a vein.

Nothing.

He drew a stuttering, panicked breath and pressed his hand flat over the left side of his chest. There was no beat. His breath started coming in horrified little hiccups, sounds of fear coming out as he started to hyperventilate, frozen in place and shaking. It didn't register at first that the screaming he heard was coming from him. He was moving now, frantic, hands clawing and tearing at his skin, at the stitches, pulling and shredding at them, as if it would somehow fix the surreal situation he found himself in.

Praxis watched on the screen as his former captain of the guard, his former son. Not anymore though, as far as he was concerned, Erol was dead. The walking corpse down there, thrashing about? Hardly even worth it. But his body had refused to die, or at least, the eco being overly absorbed into his body had refused to let the flesh die. Which was very interesting indeed. They might still end up with their dark warrior after all.

Not that he hadn't been shocked by Erol's actions at first. Diving head first on a racing zoomer into all that eco... Well, it had turned out for his better interests hadn't it. Their best medical professionals had been called into this, he didn't want the subject fucked up just because some quack doctor hadn't been able to reattach a limb correctly. Through out the whole thing though, no heart beat. Just the twitching of muscles, bones, and the obvious horror of his medical staff being the only real signs that it was a possibility in the first place. His eyes narrowed, leaning over to slam on the loud speaker button, "Get to cell 43 in sector three immediately and restrain Prisoner 55. He's going to tear apart all of the hard work that our good doctors have done."

Praxis straightened, his hands clasping behind his back as a small smile spread over his face, obviously self-satisfied. "Wonderful." He watched on screen as several guards hurried along the way, quickly opening the cell door and moving to over power and immobilize Erol. It was an odd thing though, he hadn't been breathing through out most of the procedures, but the way his chest was frantically moving showed that he was now. Maybe it was just an automatic reflex? But if he didn't need to breathe, that opened up several more lanes of possibilities of just how they could use him to their advantage. He looked over his shoulder, barking out orders for the medical staff to be summoned again, as much as he could care less if Erol tore himself apart again (it really was amusing to watch) but he couldn't have him off putting the schedule for him. Eco treatments, of several varieties to see how one or the other made the boy's body tick... But he especially wanted to focus on the dark eco.

Erol thrashed as the armored guards came bursting into his cell, hands grabbing at him and restraining him. He kicked and struggled, though the strength seemed to have left his limbs in his panic. There was a sharp snap and a weird ripping sound, and suddenly he felt a flicker of pain again, and he cried out more at the shock of it than anything. There was a weird sensation a moment later as the guards holding him stumbled for a second as if off balance. He saw it a moment later. One of the guards that had caught him by the arm was now holding the severed limb, thick threads dangling from the area that would have met his shoulder. The guard was impossible to read behind his helmet, but Erol's eyes flew wide in shock, his body frozen. He saw his fingers twitch, curling into a fist like his other hand did.

He shrieked then, seeing the pale tattooed limb that he recognized as his own, still twitching and moving in the guard's grasp as if it was still attached to him as he thrashed once more. Bile rose in his throat and the panic felt crushing, closing in on his mind from all directions. The edges of his vision grew dark once again as his eyes rolled back in his skull. The whites had taken on a strange greyish tone, making the yellow orange of his iris's near glow, unbeknownst to him. His body went limp, his tormented mind slipping back into the relief that was unconsciousness.

The next time his now dark eyes cracked open, he was restrained. It took a minute for everything to come back again, but his breathing sped up as he remembered again. He tried to jerk, finding that he was strapped down this time... strapped to the table where they did eco injections. He could see the machine looming overhead and it made his head spin. There was a part of him that recognized the twisted irony of it all, the dark humor. He'd been the captor, the tormentor... and now he was the victim. He was the eco freak. He felt ill all over again. He felt small and pathetic, guilt eating at him like maggots chewing into his surely rotting flesh. He felt so helpless, trapped in a freakish body and he knew what came next, to be subject to the Baron's inhumane tests and experiments.

It wasn't right at all. He was supposed to be the one standing at the table side, calling the shots, not tied down like an animal. He got a kick out of other people's fear, they way the caved to him. He craved that power over them... but this was far beyond fear now he realized. It was an abject horror, worse in knowing what would happen but being powerless to stop it. All that control he'd craved, it was ripped from him now. He felt weak, victimized. He wished he hadn't woken back up.

His eyes squeezed shut and he swallowed hard, trying to keep down the emotions boiling under his skin, threatening to spill over. His mouth felt dry and his head spinning again. He did this to people... the worst part was that if he had the chance to go back, he didn't know if he'd be able to tell himself no, knowing the future. He had such a need to keep that control, that power... to think of letting it go chilled him to the bone. It was something that was built into the foundation of his being. His eyes opened, a miserable look on his face as he realized it was about to be wrenched from him, leaving him without that crutch to lean on, force him to look at what he really was behind that.

Praxis frowned, his irritation growing as one of the guards managed to pull one of the thing's arms free. His hand slammed flat against the loud speaker button again, angrily shouting into the mic, "You idiots! I sent you in to subdue him just to avoid this!" He felt a wave of satisfaction at the way they all seemed to snap out of their respective horror, more afraid of the consequences of further pissing him off then they were in their fear for what had just happened. It didn't help that most of those idiots hero worshipped Erol, and failed to see past the fact that it really wasn't him anymore. Regardless. He left, it was going to be some time before they were ready to start injections, he would take his leave for the moment.

* * *

Dark eyes looked up towards the sound of the hide outs door opening, wondering who was coming in to report now. He had several missions going on right now, and he was trying to keep an eye on that Jak brat still make sure that he didn't go and destroy anything. Or at least not anything they didn't need to be destroyed. Torn straightened up, wincing as his back groaned in protest. He was spending to much time hunched over this damned table. But with how Erol had gone out... He pushed it from his mind, addressing the grunt in front of him. "What you got for me today?" The man standing in front of him was in full KG armour, something he preffered his inside sources not do since, it made the others in the rebellion a bit uncomfortable. But inside information was always a good thing to have, no matter how small. Something as simple as patrol schedules, were a huge help.

He crossed his arms over his chest, as the grunt stammered a greeting then got serious, "There's been rumors from above that Erol didn't die in the crash. Nothing that I can verify, but Praxis hasn't been seen lately, so I would say its something to look into. I've got to go, I could barely spare this time from my patrol, but I was passing through this sector."

Torn could feel the look of shock that was covering his face, not quite able to respond as the KG grunt scurried from the hideout, "Erol...?"

Torn had left a message for Jak on his communicator, signaling for the brat to make his way back to the hideout asap. He'd come in, looking like more hell then usual, but he could hardly blame him. With the race, and having had to get out from there... No time for concern. He could sleep later after he'd debriefed him. When he'd even mentioned Erol's name though, the blonde had gotten this look on his face, one he'd learned to recognize at this point as one that was going to lead to angry badgering from the ottsel. Oh, and was he right. "Shut it, you fucking furball." His voice had taken a hard edge to it, a knife digging into the table next to the creature to further his point. "I'm not asking you to go see if he's alive and precursors forbid to rescue him. I doubt he's even alive, but if he is, we need to know." The red head sighed, cracking his neck a bit to the side, and turning his attention back to Jak. "If Erol is alive and they're stowing him away, we need to know. He's one of the most influential people in Haven city, and if they decide to bring him out when our cause is at a breaking point, it will break." His eyes were dead, the look he was giving them one of a commander about to take disciplinary action on his troops. "Now go get some rest, take a shower or something, you look like shit." He motioned for them to get out, hunching back over the table as they did so.

That had been a few days ago. There were still murmurs of Erol's survival, but they were dying down now with no appearance from the red head. But for the most part, everything had gone back to normal. He didn't trust it, it was to quiet, especially from the KG. They were actually doing the jobs they were meant to be doing, and he assumed that meant that Praxis was busy off with a project. Torn was sending Jak in to the prison, see if he could get any more information. He'd also meant to get a hold of Ashelin, but that had been a dead end, surprise of all fucking surprises. She only contacted him when she was available for a mission or wanted something, very rarely did she respond to him. He would have thought since this involved Erol, circumstances would be a bit different. Apparently not. He grit his teeth, where the fuck was that little shit, he'd messaged him almost an hour ago.

Jak walked to the hideout instead of just grabbing a passing zoomer like he normally would. He wasn't exactly thrilled to be going there, he knew what Torn was going to ask them to do. And he didn't know if he would be able to say no. Hell, he wasn't sure if he could say no, because Torn was right. He just wasn't exactly thrilled to be going back to the prison. Again. He could feel his blood draining from his face, his breath hitching in his throat as he thought about it just that bit to long. Precursors, he felt cold. Taking in a deep shuddering breath he sighed, "Hold tight Dax." He figured just get it over with. Maybe they wouldn't find Erol after all, he'd literally gone up in flames after all. Catching the next zoomer that went over head, he let the civilian off before taking it on at almost top speed, just wanting to get this over and done with.

It was a short ride, going at top speed like he was, and a soft jump to get him on the ground. Moving to stand in front of the door, his skin jumping as it opened he moved down into the cooler air of the hideout. He was going to let Daxter do the talking, he normally started in before he could anyway. Not that he minded. Even in prison he'd mostly just been mindlessly screaming in pain, though Erol had taken delight the first time he'd said anything. He bit back the sick that threatened to rise in his throat, trying to stop from thinking about it. Instead he stood back on their side of the table, his arms crossed over his chest, a small smile coming over his face as Torn's own contorted into an angry snarl.

"Where the hell have you been, I messaged you almost an hour ago! I have a mission for you two!" The red head was just waiting for Daxter to start in, Jak being quiet. He was used to that, but that stupid little smile on his face didn't hide the paling of his tanned skin. He didn't want to send him in anymore then Jak probaly wanted to go, but he was the best option they had for these kinds of missions.

"Now you wait just a minute here, what makes you think we're going back in that dump to look for Erol of all people!" Daxter jumped off Jak's shoulder onto the table and put his hands on his furry hips, giving Torn the best stink eye that he could muster. The underground commander had gotten weird the past few days since this whole "zombie Erol" rumor had started flying around. And now he wanted to send him and Jak in there, and he knew how Jak felt about going back into that place. And he was nothing if not protective of his long time friend. He stuck his arms out in front of him and lurched around the table like a zombie from a bad film. "You can't really believe this "back from the dead" stuff!"

Torn nearly snarled, but he kept himself under control. He hadn't spoke to Erol in a very long time. The last time they had seen each other actually... His hand twitched, wanting to move towards his neck, but he controlled it, making the gesture look more like he was controlling himself from throttling the ottsel. "I don't think you're going to do it, I know you are. And if I had a better option, I would send someone else. Hell, I'd rather do this one myself to be honest, but I've got to stay here. Trying to run a rebellion and everything." And his face was anything but unrecognizable by the KG and civilians weren't going to exactly just clutter around him like he was a normal everyday person with his own tattoos. He did snarl this time, as Daxter made lurching motions, "I don't know what to believe when eco is put into the situation. A few months ago, you ask me if it were possible for someone to become a raging eco monster, I would have laughed at them. But now there's Jak." He looked up at the blonde as he referred to him, not buying the tough guy act. guilt gnawed at him for assigning this mission to them, but hell... He straightened, his voice and body softening, "Look, I get you don't want to get back in there, but I need you to."

Jak brought a hand up to cover his mouth as he bit back a chuckle at Daxter's antics. But he had to agree with Dax here, it wasn't like Torn to get so hung up on something weird like this. Back from the dead, with the help of eco? Even he thought that was crazy. "Dax has a point Torn, and even if it were true, what's the mission goal here? Kill him?" His voice was hard, blue eyes catching the small downward look the red head cast at his words, frowning lightly as the commander took on a softer look to him, his voice following suit. He looked over at Dax, his brows lightly furrowed. They had to do it, he supposed, and well...

Torn nodded, as if trying to get himself to agree, "If he is actually back from the dead as the furball put it, I don't know what else could be done." But he knew that Jak was agreeing to go, "I should have extra ammunition in the garages if you need it, just don't empty them out. We've got others out there just in need of it as you."

Daxter scurried back up onto Jak's shoulder as Torn actually snarled at him, "Whew, what has gotten into you." He quipped from the safety of the blonde's shoulder. He leaned on Jak's head as he often did, keeping his mouth shut as the conversation took a turn for the darker side when Jak asked just what it was that they were supposed to do with Erol if they found him. He wanted to make a joke, maybe make light of the situation, but for once his filter kicked in and told him it wasn't the right time. He waited until they were outside before he opened his mouth again. "Come on buddy, let's go kick some undead butt." He chided him with a grin. Well, he supposed, at least they could lay these rumors to rest, one way or another.

* * *

The eco treatments were every bit as bad as he thought they were going to be. It hurt, more than he could have imagined. It seemed to set fire to his previously dead nerves, coursing through him like lightening. He was acutely aware of his wounds sometimes when it happened, the searing pain where his ribs were exposed, or the deep aching where his limbs had been sewn back together. Sometimes he screamed, other times it was just choked off whimpers that would slip past his dead lips. The worst of it though was sitting alone in his cell as the days blurred together, forced to face the monster he'd become. No, the monster he'd always been.

He was sickened with himself, trying to come to terms with what he was when all of that made up control was taken from him. He was bitter and callow, short tempered and awful to be around. He lashed out at other to forget his own shortcomings, his own pain and feelings, twisting it all into a sick sort of self righteous anger. He'd put himself on a pedestal, as if he was so far above all those he took his anger out on. There were years of things he'd never let himself feel under that misdirected anger. The pain of being a reject for most of his life, finding few people that would put up with his temper, few people he could call friends. Praxis had made him feel important, wanted, and he'd clung to that, discarding his morals in the process.

Just when was it that he'd become such a shallow creature? So dependent on approval and fake affection? The races thrilled him, and alone with his thoughts he wondered if it was ever really the racing, or if it was the roar of the crowd, cheering him on, _wanting him. _He'd slipped into an uncharacteristic quiet state as his own mind tormented him, beating him into a depressed submission.

It was after that that the anger came back. It came with the realization that he'd let himself be swayed by others and become a shell of himself, and that now he was doing the same to himself, beating himself down and again acting like something other than himself. He fought now when the guards came to drag him from his cell to where they'd inject eco into his system, not that it seemed to be changing much. He was noticing now that he could feel more again. There was a strange coolness to the world, and his wounds would ache on occasion, but never the shocking, raw pain that happened during the eco treatments. And with every passing day he thought he could see some of his skin starting to regrow around his exposed bones and muscles, but he wasn't sure if he was imagining it at this point.

He'd been questioning his sanity since he first woke up into the body of some horror movie monster, but it was getting worse. There was this gnawing need pulling at him and he could never place what it was. It was worse when the guards came to take him, something under his skin just crawling when they came into the room. He didn't know if he was just losing what was left of his mind, or if there really was something in him aching with a need that he couldn't identify. It was getting worse too, it had started off as a low buzz in the back of his skull when the KG were around, easily ignored or chalked up to the eco. But not it was almost as if something had reached into him and pulled him from the very core towards the guards. It made him grind his teeth, though it was harder to fight with that _need_ pulling him close to them as they dragged him to the table once again.

Praxis was present this time as they dragged the thing in. It was fighting them again. His naked brow furrowed angrily, turning to converse with one of his medical staff. The eco treatments hadn't been seeming to effect the corpse. But they had thought the same thing of their last subject and he left only to find that the eco treatments had in fact worked. If not as exactly planned, they had still worked. And its wounds were healing, slowly. They weren't as fresh and raw looking at the very least anymore. But he could care less about that side effect, he wanted results soon, and he didn't want to wait another two years like they had with the blonde menace that was keeping their hands full. "Strap it down and begin."

Erol snarled as he saw Praxis standing near the table this time, hovering to watch. Sometimes he was present, sometimes it was just the "researches". He jerked hard against the guards that were restraining him, kicking hard enough that both feet were off the ground for a moment as he writhed in their grip. His body didn't come apart as easy anymore he noticed, and he was getting his old strength back. "You bastard!" He snarled, voice thick with disuse. He bucked as he was pushed down against the table, and he managed to get a hand free, reeling back and punching one of the guards that held him, almost struggling his way free as the man let go to defend himself, but seeing the commotion more of them had stepped in, and soon he found himself strapped to the table again, pulling against the restraints, hoping that one of these times they might snap. The eco freak had managed to snap them, and there was a part of him that hoped he could do the same.

Praxis let his eyes wander along the corpse disinterestedly, as he started to struggle harder again, actually using his voice for once. A smirk pulled along his lips, "No my dear boy, the only bastard here is you." He was a bit bored now, he'd only come to confer with his staff as to the progress. "Double the treatments, see if that has any kind of effect." He left, not bothering to see if they managed to get it on the table and restrained. "Pathetic, really."

Erol's eyes darted around and he snarled like a caged animal, hearing Praxis say to double the eco treatments. His breathing was quicker in rage and fear, they were bad enough as is, surely more would kill him. He'd begun to think that was what he wanted, just to die here and be done with it, but now... now he wanted revenge. A little part of him though maybe he wanted to do it to make up for his past sins, but he didn't know if it was just trying to put a better spin on his desire to get even. There was the whirl of machinery as the machine started up and he tried to control his breathing as he saw the crackling of dark eco. He still drew breath out of habit, but upon experimenting the other day, he'd found out he didn't really need to anymore. It was just plain unsettling not to however. His eyes closed, gritting his teeth as he waited for the shocking pain of it.

Getting into the prison had been easy. He knew his way around here pretty well, for as much time as he'd spent in his cell and on the table. But even then, that was too easy. Whatever was causing the hush over the place, he didn't like it. Motioning for Dax to stay quiet and to hold on tight, he moved along the path he knew best. He froze, diving behind an alcove as he saw someone approaching, and was that Praxis?! His teeth bared, as his fist tighened hard. He wasn't here for Praxis, he wasn't here for Praxis, he needed to let him go. The blonde's ears twitched, the Baron was talking. Looking over at Dax, he pressed a bit closer to the man as he passed by talking with someone dressed in... His skin grew clammy in automatic response, he knew that outfit, the people who'd been taking care of his injections had worn them...

"...If the thing survives this, I want to keep its dosage up like this. If not, we'll burn it. It's not worth anymore time then what it can give to us in usefulness." Praxis was speaking to one of the med staff, who was furiously writing away at a pad in their hand. "Make sure the public knows that Erol is well and truly dead, if it does die. I've heard whispers that he's been miraculously saved with the eco, and I want that done. Its nothing but a weapon anymore at this point."

Jak blinked, wait, what about burning things and publically making sure Erol was dead again. So... Shit, he was still alive. Sliding out from where he was hiding, his feet silent as he made his way back towards the chamber they had been giving him his own injections. If he was right in assuming what he was about Erol being here from the way Praxis was talking about it. His heart was pounding, but it wasn't from as fast as he was running, the hard unforgiving metal beneath his feet, or the metallic bite to the air. He could see mostly medical staff down there, a few guards, and he wasn't letting himself think, just move. But, he couldn't help the stall in his steps as he saw just who was strapped to the table. Or maybe he should say what at this point, if the over all look of Erol was anything to go by. But they were about to start another session, the machines were filling with, Precursors, dark eco. Hadn't they fucking learned.

Erol's eyes opened again when the pain didn't come, Praxis was still talking and they were too busy taking notes on everything he said to have dosed him yet. Anger consumed his fear at his words, Praxis has referred to him a creature this whole time, and it made him burn with anger. "Fuck you!" He snarled from the table, jerking so hard at the restraints he thought he might tear the stitches holding his arms together apart. He didn't pay it any mind. "I swear to god I'll kill you!" His words were impulsive, full of hate and passion, the emotions that drove him, that kept his dead body moving at this point. Self pity had only gotten him so far, and now it was once again anger that drove him. He let his head smack back against the table, bearing his teeth as he arched and strained, a desperation in his actions. There was the loud clamor of footsteps, and suddenly the room was alive with commotion and noise. His wild eyes flew open again, and his thrashing stilled for a moment. By the precursors that was the eco freak. A conflict of emotions surged inside of him, a sick sense of guilt, anger, a little bit of fear, and a strange relief. Realizing he'd stilled, he jerked once more, though the restraints didn't give. After Jak had broken out, he knew it had been reinforced.

Well, that was a sense of de ja vu wasn't it. He should probably just shoot Erol from here, and try to get his way out. But he was to busy with these KG's. They went down easy enough, but more of them were going to be coming in, and he could only do so much before he had to rely on his dark eco powers. And he wasn't entirely sure he had enough in him right now to do so. "Dax, go get Erol, get him loose, we need to go." He used his gun to bash in the mask of one of the ones that had gotten to close, kicking him back into others to gain him some shooting distance. He didn't have time enough to focus on fighting and freeing Erol. And he didn't know if Daxter had it in him to kill someone. Because, that seemed an awful lot like how Erol usually was. Only, now he was angry and wanting to kill Praxis. It was a nice change, he wouldn't lie.

Praxis roared, practically throwing one of the closest KGs towards the eco-freak. "Kill him!" But the damned blonde was already taking care of most of the men he had stationed here. He almost broke the dash as he slammed his fist down against the alarm, the whole prison starting to flash red, sirens going off, his voice calling over the loud speaker just where the breach was.

Daxter was holding on tight to Jak like he usually did when they got in scrapes like this, and he managed to give him an incredulous look despite the chaos as he told him to go free Erol. "Jak! Are you crazy?!" He questioned, something he found himself asking the blonde on more than one occasion. Alarms were shrieking now though, and they didn't have time for arguing. So he'd trust Jak's judgment here. He scurried off his shoulder, darting around the floor to avoid the gunfire, scrambling up the table to get Erol free- and oh by the precursors he was really a zombie wasn't he? He tried to put it aside for the moment as he undid the straps holding him down. "Don't think for a second this means that you're off the hook, tough guy!" He couldn't stop running his mouth, even when the situation was deadly.

Erol wondered if perhaps he'd slipped off to sleep and this was all a dream and soon enough he'd be woken by guards and dragged to the table to which he was currently strapped. But he wasn't going to take that risk, as the little orange rat got him free, he lurched up, undoing the rest of the restraints himself once his arms were free. Bullets were whizzing past and it was a wonder he hadn't been shot. He rolled off the table, swiping one of the downed guards guns. He stayed crouched where he was, aiming and picking off a few of the guards that were sprinting towards them. "Move!" He snapped, they were in a bad spot to hold any kind of defense, and if they weren't out of here fast, they were never getting out. Another shot and the last guard was off the bridge until backup arrived shortly. He didn't wait for Jak to respond to his snapped command as he moved to run, his legs protesting for a moment as he stumbled.

Jak didn't even bother to roll his eyes, like he normally would in response to that question. Admittedly, Daxter asked him that a lot. He probably deserved it. But that wasn't the point right now, right now, he was focused on making sure he didn't get overpowered by KG and that he kept up cover fire for Dax and... Erol. That was such a weird thought. But he did what he usually did in a fight and ignored it. Looking back over his shoulder, his shot gun blasting, "Let's go!" He knew Daxter would go as fast as he could, but hell if he didn't want to get out of here. A sour look twisted his face. He'd just said to go... He did not like Erol telling him what to do, once again, even in this kind of situation. But he didn't say anything, letting the angry look on his face convey what he wanted to say as he followed Erol, scooping Dax up as he ran past so that he could resituate himself on his normal perch.

Praxis snarled, his hands bashing into the control panel. He needed to get them back in restraint, and then that fucking ottsel was freeing the subject! His voice broke over the loud speaker again, "If they escape this building, I will have all of you thrown outside the wall! Get them!" The Baron was going to personally rip those two apart, the eco-freak especially, once he got his hands on them. He was suddenly feeling less courteous, maybe they would put the blonde freak back on the table.

Erol knew the twists and turns of the building like the back of his hand, and it was almost easier than it should have been to evade the incoming guards, and there was a sick satisfaction hearing Praxis bellowing over the speakers to catch them. What a slap to the face that must have been, one experiment freeing another. He lead them quickly out of the building, out into a back alley which was thankfully deserted at the moment. He looked around, they needed a zoomer so they could get out of here- it hit him then that he was thinking like he was working with Jak. He snarled, whipping around to point his gun at the blonde, his chest still heaving from the adrenaline. "What the hell do you want." He snapped, eyes darting almost madly around, waiting for the KG.

Daxter held on to Jak's shoulder again as they ran, keeping an eye out for guards, though the undead ginger had done a good job of keeping them out of the heavily used hallways and out a back alley instead. Well, that was certainly easier than going back out the front door... And once they got outside, Erol was the one with his gun on them. He bristled, pointing at him from where he was on Jak's shoulder. "Ooooh no you don't! You don't get to do that right after we rescue you!" He was failing to register that Erol might actually shoot them.

Jak followed after Erol, admittedly because he knew the ginger knew his way around better then he did. He hadn't been here before... Now, a zoomer would be perfect, although he would prefer two. A double seater was to slow, and if they only had one, he knew that was going to be a problem... His attention was drawn back to Erol, with a harsh snap of reality. Blue eyes were cold as they looked first at the barrel of the gun, then at the former KG commander. He'd been waiting for a chance to sink his claws into Erol, but this wasn't a good time. "Dax... " The blonde's voice was soft, and he made a slow movement, grabbing his messenger and passing it to the ottsel, "You might want to message Torn." His voice was cold, but it was obvious from the way he was standing, he was very prepared to get physical. He could move fast enough that if Erol did shoot, he could at least not end up dead, and have the other on the ground, but they were waisting time with this. "I don't want anything from you. If anything, I would have rather have found you dead. But we do not have time to waste, and we've got a mission to finish." His voice was dark, a warning to the other.

Erol fought with himself for a moment, grinding his teeth in his anger before he whipped his gun away from Jak, pointing it at the ground instead. The sound of footsteps and shouting was echoing in the distance, they needed to move and they needed to move now. And as much as he hated to admit it... Jak was the one who knew the plan from here. The light outside was sharp against his eyes, so used to the prison and the false lighting now. "Where are we going." He snapped, ignoring how it stung his pride to let himself take the back seat while Jak lead them now. But he didn't want to come this far just to get killed now, and Jak did have a certain knack for escaping the guard.

Daxter caught the device as Jak tossed it to him, swallowing nervously to himself at the dark tone in his friend's voice... Erol must have caught it too, since he'd lowered his gun. His paws tapped away at the messenger (He wasn't entirely sure where they'd gotten it, he thought it might have been Ashelin's at some point). "Uh, hey, buddy, we've got your zombie WHAT NOW" it read. The sounds of chaos were starting to echo in around them, and they were going to be trapped in this alley soon. "Uh, Jak, I hope you've got a plan here."

Jak grinned as Erol gave, moving to holster his own gun, "I don't know. We've got to make sure we ditch your friends in red, so we're going to need a zoomer." He looked over at Erol, fighting with himself. "I'll be right back." He was assuming that he was going to be better at getting a hold of a zoomer, and that, maybe people wouldn't take to well to seeing Erol looking like... That. Yeah. People usually gave him a wide enough space to work with, he was pretty sure people would break out in screams at the gingers appearance. Loping out of the alleyway, he snatched the first zoomer, thanking the precursors it wasn't a major dump, and ran it back into the alley on low, "Get on, we're leaving with or without you, either way I don't care."

Torn looked over as his messenger beeped, having changed the ID in it away from Ashelin's almost as soon as Jak had gotten it. Reading over the text, he raised a brow, wait, WHAT!? Quickly typing out his reply, he was practically thrumming, "What do you mean you have my zombie friend? I sent you in to kill him." Although he was glad on a level that they hadn't, he really was. He sent another message, his thumbs typing out the words quickly, pressing at the letters almost clumsily. "You can't be if this back to th we hideout thay won't d be su did I de meet me at the es coordiantea." And sent the coordinates, not bothering to go back and fix his spelling mistakes.

Erol was half expecting Jak to run off and leave him there now, though that would sort of defeat the purpose of freeing him (Why had he done that, anyway?). He held his tongue as Jak was back in a moment with a zoomer, telling him to get on or get lost. He swung himself up into the passenger seat, again ignoring the sting to his pride. He brought his gun up, knowing that they were in for a chase, he hoped Jak could lose the incoming guards off their tail. He'd never say it aloud but the blonde was a fairly good driver, he'd proven that on a multitude of occasions, as much as it pissed him off. He raised his stolen gun and fired a few shots at the cruiser he could see gaining on them.

"Yeesh, learn how to spell would ya'?" Daxter mumbled to himself as he got a garbled reply from Torn over the messenger. "He says meet him here Jak." He pointed at the coordinates on the screen, holding it up so that Jak could see. There were KG after them now, and Erol was shooting at them, which was surprisingly helpful for him. He didn't know how to feel about this yet, it certainly looked like Erol was in fact undead, but... eco couldn't really do that, could it? Maybe he just kinda... looked like it? He hung on tight to Jak's shoulder as they flew around corners of buildings, dodging between other zoomers and cutting through the air at breakneck speeds. Man he was going to have to talk to him about his driving one of these days... but as they raced off towards the safe zone, he was thankful for his erratic driving. The sound of gunshots and the chasing Hellcats faded into the background soon enough, and a strange silence fell over them.


End file.
